I used to know you. You were such a different person then. You've always been a cynic, but now it seems as if you've become their leader, instilling doubt and condescension in your ranking officers. These (mindless) leaders salute your persuasive speeches and carry them down to their armies, through patronizing yells and commands.

I've changed, too. I've lost my ability to care anymore and I've floundered in my attempts to think emotionally. I'm trying to seek forgiveness - it's something that actively hides from me. Every 3rd day or so I find it and relish it; but it's fleeting. That's okay, because at least I know to seek it.

This week threatens to be explosive. Let's hope that the 'yes' is a fraudulent one; that I can escape this state for now without an intersection of our paths.

To look into your apathetic eyes would only serve to fuel bitterness, and I've grown incredibly weary of being her landlord.

13 days and counting.

I find myself witness to and partaking in many conversations about vulnerability and relationships lately. Definition. Clarity. Responsibilities. Owning up. Honesty and Truth. Love. Rejection. Frustration. Miscommunication.

I'm sometimes astounded at the lack of communication that takes place between friends, colleagues, lovers. Of course it's not natural to seek conflict, to cherish it, to revel in it. We must overcome our tendencies to dislike conflict and be open and honest about our emotions and our perceptions. Perception is reality, as some say, and to not be aware of the other's real view of the situation is a disadvantage. It causes one to look at a situation analytically and/or through the lens of their own bias, their own life experiences. The truth is white, but we all perceive it to be a random shade of an entirely different color.

Scientists say that memories are recreated each time we remember them. According to these, the less a memory is remembered, the more accurate the memory remains. Should I remember something 100 times in 20 years, it will surely be different in my memory than the past reality. One of the reasons for this is perception. When I was 7 (20 years ago), I did not apply my cynicism or my ability to abstractly reason or my hurt pride to the memory. I was innocent then, seeing things through a beautiful set of naive eyes. But 20 years later, as I think of the same memory, I remember differently because of my personal learning over this set of years.

And so it is with conflict.

There are times that conflict cannot be resolved, reconciled. And for that, we must abandon the situation entirely. By entirely, I mean forgiveness, of course. Letting go of bitterness and hurt and self pity and (righteous or not) anger. Until then, we are captives in our own prison (mind you, the chains and jail cells are imaginary.)

On to vulnerability and rejection. They seem to be a couple, both which terrify most people. Both, however, provide room for growth, for learning, for experience. Life is not about everything going our way. Life is about failure sometimes. Failure, in my logical opinion (though my emotions do not always agree), is success. You cannot learn of humility until you have failed. You cannot learn the way of freedom until your fear of failure has departed. You cannot learn to love yourself until failure is accomplished, experienced, and most importantly, accepted. Admired, even?

I am terrified, at times, to put feelings on the table. Part of me thinks it is not my responsibility, as it applies to a male/female relationship. Part of it is that I tend to go for the guys who are just as insecure and scared as I am to admit to vulnerability and allow for rejection. 

Safe.

It's illogical, to consider these relationships safe, but when you consider the lack of responsibility: safe.

Now this does apply to me currently, but to be frank, the emotions/attractions are not quite legit enough to require a discussion. Coupled with the fact that I've got 13 days left in Orlando and I'm not desiring any sort of relationship while I am abroad, I do not have to face these demons just yet.

What I'm left fighting, instead, is my tendency to require so little from a man. 

It's the bloodiest battlefield I've seen in some time, and to walk away only an amputee would be considered victory.

devilish smile

if i close my eyes
will you disappear
if i turn up 'find me to forgive' 
and hit repeat 1 on the iphone
can i drown out your voice

if i turn my back on your person
will i be able to ignore your reflection in the eyes that stare at me
if i distract myself with enough fun
can i act as if you don't exist

will i be able to forget
those words you easily mumbled in the darkness,
the drunkenness
(intoxication of many levels)
the moment
meaningless?

i have shut my eyes
i have deafened my ears
i have blocked you out
i have let you go

but your smile might sneak you back in

Sometimes a girl needs a good kick in the ass. It's usually when she gets a silly idea stuck in her head, like a scratched record repeating the same line, and then begins to believe that those ideas are... intelligent? true? honorable? 

"They're both unique and amazing and interesting in their own way, but what it really boils down (when you're interested/wanting to date someone) to is how they treat YOU.  While both of them have their own set of pros and cons, how they treat you is unequivocally the most important deciding factor. Because this also reveals to me not only what they think about you, what you really think about yourself and what you actually want out of a relationship."

Really. If you don't have friends like this, you need to get them.

Eh.

So there you are, and here I am. And there he was, and here I am. And there HE is, and here I am. Two down, defined, outlined, black and white. One to go. I'm not as thrilled about definition on this one. The second one: I did not feel the same. The third one: hmmm, maybe I did. But circumstances have kept my logic alive and my emotions in check.

You? Eh.

I spoke to her yesterday, of her own situations, and heard her say she didn't want the DTR. I didn't understand then, but upon reflection: I see her point. 

Just get out of my head, if you please. 

The Yellow Rose.

Today, my yellow rose is dying, dead.

It reminds me of the friendship I imagine it to represent. Girls who know much more about flowers than I have told me that this is a friendship rose. I wondered for days who gave it to me, and asked several guys, who all denied this gift. The only person I haven't asked, who I assume gave it to me, took less effort to communicate with me than he did to leave the rose.

So the rose is dead, and the friendship is, too.

A rose is a rose and nothing more when it is not backed up by love. It is thoughtful and lovely and I enjoyed the excitement in my heart when I saw it... but a week later, it is mundane and ugly. 

I shall toss it into the trash and think of it no more.

On a more positive note, I really do love flowers. Especially ones that represent love supported by action.

Leave that Pedestal for someone else to climb

(I wrote this for a friend of mine, but I feel that pieces of it apply to all of my friends.)

There's this wonderful girl I know. She looks out from Egyptian-lined brown eyes at me, trying to fit her current standard of thinking around mine. We think quite differently and frequently force our ideas so strongly against each other that they splatter, like eggs hitting the floor. This splatter leaves just a bit of my idea in her and her idea in me. We're growing, you see, because of each other.

And so it blows my mind, as I stare back into her eyes, that she doesn't see what I see, what everyone sees. Granted, we are all victim of knowing ourselves best, and seeing ourselves more clearly than anyone but God. It's true that we, as a race of people, are harder on ourselves than others. But I get frustrated when I can't take this video of her that's in my head and transfer it into her thoughts.

She doesn't know that she lights up the room when she walks in, even if she's in a downtrodden state. She hasn't realized that people flock to her because of her compassionate and deeply loving soul. She hasn't successfully understood how her energy is contagious, her smile catching. She hasn't become her true self in fear that others won't like her (we are all so naive in this aspect.) BUT, the glimpses that we all get of her beauty ARE her true self. I hope that this beauty will one day present her true self to her subconscious... then seeing her soul in the truest, purest light. I wish and pray that she will crown herself princess of her body, so that the insecure demons inside her will have to submit to the True one. He has given her reign as princess through His grace and love.

One day... she will move past these tears of frustration and pain to understand that he's just a jerk parading around in a lover's suit. He's not a lover. He's not a friend. He's got his own problems, and he's not perfect. And that's okay. But it's not okay for him to keep up this charade of caring, of selflessness. He's not who he says he is (and to be fair, none of us exactly are), and I wish he'd just be man enough to leave her alone. But she, fair-hearted as she is, doesn't think she is strong enough for it. Short term gain for long term pain. I understand, for you see, I've been there before. Several times. But then there are those times you just have to immerse yourself in the heartache and melancholia so that it will depart from you when you become strong enough to cast it out. If you invite your enemy in for tea every day, he will slyly form that habit. Your strength will waiver and your heart will break (at least minutely) every time.

I love you, dearest, most beautiful friend. I love everything about you. I admire the steps you have taken to become so broken, even if they weren't your top choice. Your brokenness has NEVER made you ugly, but has only made you human. You've fallen off of your own pedestal, and I wish you'd stop trying to climb back up to the top. You are PERFECT how you are, and you will grow into who you are meant to be.

God is Love, dear one. He will mend your heart and heal your soul and comfort your grieving.

The Lips of Lovers Shan't Part with Pasts.

She kept the box a secret from the rest of the explorers.

It was lodged in a wooden puzzle bookcase in the office. Despite being overrun with thousands of skaters, explorers and runaways over the past 11 years, it appeared as though nobody had ever looked twice at this unembellished purple velvet box.

They walked on in front of her, oblivious to her thoughts and curiosity regarding this treasure. They were headed towards the graffitied Budda, talking of ways to scale the massive statute. She barely heard their chatter as her hands ran over the edges of this box. There was no opening, which she found odd. What is the purpose of such a velvet brick? It sounded and felt hollow. She put it in her purse for the time being, until she could be sure that she would not be distracted by her friends. It was her find, her discovery, her intrigue.

The manly men, as they were lovingly dubbed by the group, scrambled to the top of the faux mountains, followed by some of the more courageous women. She sat a good distance off, examining the box in detail. It was burned in one corner, as if a careless smoker had left a cigarette burning upon it as he walked away to attend to a mundane task. She pondered this burn, and other minor bits of wear and tear to the sturdy shell.

She then found a sharp piece of metal, which she used to cut the top piece of the box off. She had hoped for a hidden treasure within, but found it empty. She inspected the green silk-paper interior, which revealed nothing of its past to her. She was growing more and more frustrated by the minute, because this box (which was clearly out of place among the vandalized houses and windows) held closely its past and secrets.

At the peak of her annoyance, she hurled the box towards the murky, algae covered pond in front of Budda. Only one of her friends at the top saw her reaction, and merely chalked it up to meaningless destruction: the theme of the day.

So the box drifted to the bottom of the moat, never to be seen again by human eyes. It was quite successful at containing the secret of its journey to this theme park land. It would never utter the story of the cigars it housed in Thailand, or the money it stored during the travels across the Pacific. It would keep tight the political and social discussions it overheard over many a bottle of Chivas in the home of the Californian sailor, and the tale of the thrift shop in which it sat for 3 years and 2 months. It refused to part with the memory of a British businessman, who for his Asian wife, purchased this newly sacred box as a gift. His gift to her contained 2 commemorative tickets to the opening of his life's dedication: a tribute to her culture and his love for her, Splendid China.

It never once spoke of the simple love it contained for many years, or the vast betrayal it detected that forced the park (and her heart) into closure.

The box, at the bottom of the pond, decayed as easily and quickly as the love it purportedly housed. 

Sham.

She Reads.

She reads Anna Karenina and discovers herself in both Alexey and Anna. She is disgusted with her own infidelity; she is disgusted with his apathy. She is disgusted with the way he refuses to communicate and the way that he refuses to address LIFE. Life and her ugly, vicious, bitchy problems.

She reads Persuasion and longs for a letter like the only part of the book she considers worth reading. She wants someone to care like that for her. She wonders and ponders whether that man really exists. Is it fair to set such an expectation?

She reads Twilight and has anxiety over the way the writer twists and wraps (and warps) her heart around the lead vampire. She learns to detach herself from the books and laugh over the silliness of it all.

She reads the Bible and sees herself in every fall of all of His children. She has been there before and frequently. Maybe not adultery in action, but in thought. Maybe not idolatry with gold, but idolatry with materials. She has turned her back on Jesus; she has walked away from the only intelligent and difficult choice to pursue the heart-deadening, alluring shards of glass the world has given her to slit her wrists. She comes and goes often.

She reads The Unvanquished and finds herself longing for a time when communication was solely dependent upon word of mouth. She wants to find herself in her kitchen, cooking with the servants, finding the soldiers dragging back from war, shouting the news of the finality of the war. She wants to provide the gift of shelter to John Wilkes Booth, while being completely oblivious to the death of her country's leader.

She reads A Brief History of Time (of course only the illustrated version). She illustrates his writings further for a better understanding. She looks into the strange thoughts of a genius man and wants to travel into space with His particles of light, His waves of light. She wants to become part of imaginary time, to travel endlessly at the quickest speed known to man. To feel the crushing weight of the Universe. To traverse the depths of the multiverses in which the rest of her soul lives.

She reads of Dorian Gray and relates to his desire to remain forever youthful.

She reads the Color of Water and ponders the struggles of a black man with a white mother in times when these things were taboo.

She reads Fight Club and relates to the violence, the chaos, and the anarchy.

She reads Frankenstein and relates to his inability to be human.

She reads Sex God and highlights the whole damn book because it all reminds her of her. And the rest of the world, which is obsessive about sex in every form.

She reads Abba's Child and cries at Grace and Love.

She reads To Own a Dragon and sobs at the effects of an absentee dad on her soul.

And then, she stops reading for a time.

Because although all of these books contain part of her,

None of them can withhold her entirety.

What was it that tore us apart?

What the hell was it? Where did it come from?

It snuck up on us one cold November day, and we never had a chance.

We never heard the sounds as it trod upon the forest towards the cave we used to hide out in.

We never saw the flood waters coming.

We were swept away, of course in opposite directions

Swept away from everything and everybody.

I will never be the same.

Good 

Bye.

Oh to be distracted.

I came out here to sit in my backyard and read the words and thoughts of others. I came to lose myself and my thoughts and introspections in Lamont or Tolstoy. I walked out the double sliding glass doors with the idea of escape from my head.

The wind is blowing the leaves of these trees so slowly, so beautifully, that I can't help but to be distracted by the quiet sound. The sun is slipping through the fronds of the palms, dancing across my feet, my pants, my table, my books. At a distance - just far enough to be soothing and not noisy - I hear the cars and trucks driving down Vineland. 

But there's one sound that breaks me: the whisper of notes that trail across someone's backyard, over the slats of my fence, and into my arms. I can't tell if it's a cd or someone actually playing the piano - it's very faint. The sounds drift by and fade out now and again because they are too far away. Part of me wants them closer - to lose my thoughts in the sound of the trilling melody, the repetitive keys. And part of me loves them just where they are. They are far enough away from me that I am not able to absolutely shut down my thoughts.

I just realized, before all of this distracting came to pass, while I opened Traveling Mercies, that my defense mechanism is nonchalance. It's being blunt and hiding in the attitude behind those thoughts. This revelation, as several others have in the past 24 hours, stunned me. It caught me off guard. 

It has been rather humbling in the past hours to realize how little I know about myself. How out of tune I am with reality. How much of my time I spend in the knowledge and perceptions in my head, and how little of it I spend outside. 

I'm still processing the perceptions others have so graciously given me of myself. I am terrified of their thoughts and yet, in some strange way, overjoyed to face the truth about me. 

I said this earlier today, but I feel as though I have learned more about my issues in the past 24 hours than I did in a year or so of on-and-off counseling.

So much to consider.

The Habitat of the Soul

I arose from my slumber,

One thought in my mind

To seek out the sunlight

And, of course, You.

Before I left,

I felt the rumblings of Your presence

The windows were open,

The breeze a cool wake up call.

My soul was situated entirely within my heart upon waking

(its customary home)

But during the drive, 

An explosion rocked the ground

As my soul threatened to break the physical bounds of my fragile body

It was nothing but glorious.

The joy I felt 

At the announcement of Your presence

Overwhelmed me

I sung, “You’re Beautiful”

Along with Phil

The words resounding in my heart

As if You inscribed them there in Your precious blood

(indelible ink of sorts)

as I sang.

I then spent hours in the gazebo

Looking out over the rose gardens

Incredulous at the emotional outburst

You inspired within

No words able to flow from my pen

Until hours later.

Serenity sat with me in that gazebo

and the evening found me giddy with laughter.

14 hours of waking pleasure.

Gratitude.

Monochromatic.

The world is very black and white to me. I am analytical, I am precise, and I consider vague-ness to be a cop out. I evaluate life, people, choices, and conflict in a methodical manner and lay out options in light of these evaluations.

Lately, this has caused me problems.

Apparently, everyone in the world is not like me. Seriously, who knew? No, just kidding. But the truth is that in my mind, the way I solve conflict and see situations is the best. It's efficient (yes, I know that efficiency is not always the best way to approach reaching the end, but when it makes sense, I can't deny its purpose!) Not only that, but it's clear cut and logical and I can write it down and make it ordered and sketch flowcharts and make anyone see its LOGIC.

So when this doesn't work, I get hyper frustrated. Like today. Someone tells me I haven't been a good friend. I ask how. The vague and confusing answer is the vibes I give. How do you measure vibes? How do you change vibes? How do you increase or decrease them? If all that I'm doing is done from love, how in the heck do I change your perception to be more in line with mine? Vibes, I think, are purely based upon perception. You might get a bad vibe from me, but what if it's more related to your bad day? Or your insecurity stemming from an issue unrelated to me?

To take a step backward, I completely understand that not everyone can work on my system that is so logical and worthwhile to me. I don't expect that. But for me to attempt to wrap my mind around this polar opposite form of thinking is beyond challenging. I'm considering myself a failure thus far, to be frank. I can't figure it out. I don't know how to improve and she is not helping me understand. 

I have realized, in this course of friendship, that I need to be a little more flexible with my black and white world. I might not go into the murky grey depths of the abstract sea, but I could certainly stand to bend a bit more.

If you wanna help me (since I have no clue how to start), I'd love it.

Maybe we should all screw the monochromatic scheme and find that azure sea and sky.

There is definition.

I sat and looked into his eyes and I was immediately captivated. There is something about his soul and how different it is from my own that is magnetic. (Even though you might think that it would be more akin to the repellent poles.) I watched his mouth move, uttering inane strings of words; the genuine, raucous laughs repeatedly made their escape from my mouth. Sitting in the moment, I wished for nothing more. Why did it feel so good? To be appreciated and to appreciate him? I can't say I wanted him to leave, so when we said our goodbyes it was far too soon, even at 3am.

In my mind, which thrives on logic and order and sense, I was jotting a 5 page list of all the reasons it would never work. I'm moving to Australia. I'm moving to Australia. I'm moving to Australia. Also, I think he has a girlfriend? (Facebook tells all.) This is mere infatuation. Is there a basis for the attraction, beyond the obvious? Questions and more questions lined up, each waiting their turn to be translated onto that list. 

There's also the obvious: his attention seems fleeting.

It felt absurd to have her whisper to me later, "I think he likes you. He keeps finding you whenever you walk away." It didn't seem that way in my mind, but I always tend to question whether the guys I find interesting actually like me. I am quite cautious about letting those thoughts prance through my head. I am certain it has everything to do with expectations increasing and potentials for disappointment.

I have to admit to you, my reader, the truth is that whether or not I might actively acknowledge those words in my head, my heart has already written scrolls upon scrolls about this infatuation. It rarely has the chance, in my days, to be as introspective as the dominate head - but today is her lucky day. She'll keep her secret as long as possible, until the truth is too obvious to ignore anymore.

And the days go by and I think of him sometimes. On my lucky days, like today, I get to see him. Sometimes I keep my distance, saying only hello and goodbye. Other days, I gather his undivided attention close and relish the time spent in our friendship. It must be the heart and the head jousting within for the throne. It makes me smile. I have always enjoyed their tournaments... even though the victor is not always who I support.

Even so, they are both me. So I do always win. This is good for my competitive spirit. (Wait, maybe it's not. I am not adept at losing and this does nothing to mold me?)

I am intrigued to see how this plays out the rest of my time in Orlando. I just realized that I am looking forward to it because it IS black and white. Does that sound strange to you? But there IS definition: I leave in less than 30 days. There is no long-term commitment. It is easy to let it come, let it go. I think. Yes, I will miss him when I am gone, should we become more intimate in our friendship.

But the truth is that long-term allows for, no, demands, vulnerability. 

That thought scares me.

2008. An interesting year. I was reading the back of a bookmark Kate/Jenna gave me last year, and it said "JINK 2007!"

I did a double-take because it seems like so much longer ago than last year that we were reading the Jesus I Never Knew and hanging out at the Ghetto Fab house. 

This home was a new addition to my life in 2008. Tiffany and I moved in November 2007 and were just really getting to know each other on a deeper level. We had a constant stream of people in and out of the house. Our sphere, based on Yancey's Disappointment with God, launched in mid-January, I believe. I met Leslie (current roommate), Melissa (of the infamous MJ), Chris Slankard, and several other lovely people. I also got to know several acquaintances better. The conversations launched by the sphere were PHENOMENAL. Theology + emotion + life + bitterness + love + freedom + God = Amazingness. I am so thankful for the 4-5 months I had with this group.

February launched my heart into its current restless state. I visited Drew Harris in Nashville with Tiffany and Susan. I LOVED that city so much and instantly decided to try to move there.It wasn't realistic until at least summer, due to prior commitments, but my heart was set. Quite clearly, it didn't work out. I tried and tried, but it never became easy and I never left Orlando. My heart just wouldn't stop thinking of leaving, though.

In March I went with my mom to Europe: Spain and Italy. I had longed to go to these two countries for so long, and my heart found much joy in them. Spain, with its tapas and siestas, was stunning. I do believe Barcelona was my favorite, and Gaudi's architecture (specifically La Sagrada Familia) BLEW me away. I don't know any other architects by name, but I am certain he would always remain mon prefere. Italy was really fantastic. I was entranced by the language of these beautiful people. I would love to live there someday.

April threw me a huge birthday party (which showed me just how introverted I can be) and another trip to Nashville.

May found Leslie moving in. I still smile at how God worked that out so perfectly with the timing and the way it all went down. Our sphere ended and it was sad.

June was our infamous trip to Miami. We had so much fun. There are so many quotes from that weekend that I can't even begin to remember them all. It was the first time I had done South Beach as it's meant to be done: without a price tag. Luckily, it wasn't my dime, either. We went to the Mansion and it was crazy to pay $400 for a table/bottle and realize that it wasn't VIP - it was 'average'. Miami is a different world. 

Also in June, we decided to go to see One Republic in concert. I realize that many people think they are overplayed or just average, but in concert I found them to be captivating. Melissa ended up going to the concert with us (I think her friend wasn't able to go) and thus began an interesting friendship, to say the least. 

July and August passed too quickly. July found us at some really fun and random parties. Two, specifically, stand out: Roby's Black & White Party and Chase/Dustin's going away party. Weird things happened. We danced until we looked like we had just showered. Funny, funny, funny quotes arose. Melissa's first freestyle, at least that we were witness to. We also celebrated Tiffany's birthday (Plus Faye's arrival) for at least 4 days. It rained and rained and rained and rained, and yet we continually went out every night for more fun. I invented the JC Drizzle, a drink named after myself of course, and it lives on in infamy.

It was some time in the midst of these months that our two week trip to Australia turned into a one-way ticket. One of us had a bad day at work, and the other's AIM response was, "Screw it, let's book a one-way ticket and quit our jobs."

Little did we know it would become a reality in just a few short months. 

September found Leslie, Melissa and I walking up to the Hard Rock, crashing the pool to watch Shrek 2 or 3 under the stars. At some point during the stroll, Melissa and I inadvertently, half-heartedly planned two additional trips - New York City and Seattle. Odd to think we were planning to do this much considering we were supposed to be saving for Oz. Those trips also turned into reality. 

October. This month in itself seems like it took a year to pass. We did SO much, and I remember maybe 1/8 of it. There was a Saturday that I never stopped running: MUSE theology, volunteering at Give Kids the World, then partying at Jen Gilanfarr's house for Jahred Schmidt's fundraiser. I remember halfway dreading the day because of everything to be done, but it was a BLAST. Schmidt cracks me up and my heart is happy he's returned. Our halloween party found us dressed up as the characters for Clue. Any time I have 30+ people in my home, laughing and having a good time, S'mores and fire in the backyard, I just can't do anything but smile. There was an underlying uneasiness for me that night, for reasons I shan't admit, but it was a fun night regardless. Then, we found ourselves in Seattle for the weekend of Halloween -Shelby, Mel and myself. It was fun. It rained the whole freakin' time, but it didn't matter. I scored an awesome pair of flat black boots from Old Navy and it made walking in the rain a breeze. I would live in Seattle, especially during the summer.

November went by entirely too fast. Life seems to do that every day. Some days, I am very grateful, while others, I never want that day to end. November took Mel and me to NYC. We happened to be so incredibly lucky that Carolina was in NYC at the same time! Sadly, Walter left a few days before we arrived. We did some touristy stuff with Carolina and her friends and saw Chicago. Amazing. I am not a huge theatre buff, but that show was really intriguing. We went to Justin Timberlake's restaurant, after a fight about how much I don't like Asian food. Well, not really a fight, but it was funny. Do not force me to eat Asian food. Sadly, we had no idea that at the same exact time we were drinking Sweet Tea in Manhattan (who knew?!) JT was on SNL. What I would have given to be in that audience while he was prancing around in a leotard and heels. Geez. 

During this same month, we celebrated Mel's birthday. S'mores. This had to be the 5th time I've had them this year. I don't think I've had them 5 times in my life before this year. We played the Paper game (AKA Pass the Paper Pookie) and I was endlessly entertained. I set up a grid fire (Thanks to Sonny's incredible expertise and coaching) that was highly doubted. Those doubters became believers, let me tell you.

The worst part about November was that I lost a friend that I cared greatly about. I look back at it, and I still don't know how it happened. Logic and words refuse to combine into an explanation. I still grieve that friendship, but I think it may be in the morgue. If you read this, all I have to say is that I miss you more than you can imagine if you spent every minute of every day thinking about it. But, people choose to march out of your life when they are ready, and there's nothing you can do to stop them. 

Alas, we are to December. I forget everything I've done this month. I celebrated BK's 21st birthday with him - I love BK very much. We've been good friends ever since our road trip to Atlanta last Thanksgiving and I'm grateful for him. That same night I learned more about Myers Brigg from Walter than I ever thought I'd know. Sonny dropped theology bombs on me and my questions while Melissa attacked him and BK's canvas gift with her mad martial arts skills. I got in a fight with another of my best friends because of miscommunication and misunderstandings. We are resolving and I love her very much as well. I came to realize just how hard it is going to be to leave Orlando at the end of January. I'm very excited about my trip to Australia, but departing my community is a scary thought. Last night saw Jahred's return and a lovely winter (if you could call it that) evening on Kate's porch. I sat in the corner wrapped in a blanket and could come up with absolutely no better way to spend a Tuesday night. Tonight is going to be fantastic - coming into 2009 with a vengeance at Walter's amongst a million friends and family. We're gonna burn stuff. But don't you worry, we won't burn the house down: Walter has made sure of that.

Alecia: I have a lot of little memories of you, like wine under the stars over on Universal grounds, snappy UF comments every now and then (specifically a horrible weekend in October), hilarious FB references/arguments, etc. You're freaking fun. 

For all of the rest of you I didn't specifically mention, I love you, too. I hope to see you tonight. If you even made it this far. It was a LONG year.

the wind alone can whisper them back to you

the fire burned brightly
as the lighter lit
and relit
flames licking the lined paper

pages and pages of writings
of secrets and honest emotions
(contained in bold block letters for emphasis)

forced to repeatedly blow it out
so that it would not also destroy
the feelings i wanted to keep
those i may still choose to let see the light of day
and the pupils of your eyes

pieces of me were carried away amongst the ashes
but to be frank
at least part of me
took flight weeks ago
beneath a beautiful orange and pink sky
a fitting tribute:
the twilight afire during the continuous battle
of daylight and night

tragically radiant.

Freedom

The word is overused. It's utterly lost the extraordinary truth that it contains within its 7 letters.

And yet, when you do something to experience it, the truth and the reality of the blessing it contains becomes

part of you.

YOU.

You're bent, changed, altered, twisted just a little bit (or maybe a lot). You edge just a tiny step closer to God and give him just a little bit more control than you have before, than usual.

Every minute of every day I'm pondering how to run my life and be in charge. In management, it's called delegation. And in the brief encounters I have with my Soulmate, I find that although accomplishing freedom (that letting go) is difficult and counterintuitive, the reward is always shocking.

Because in letting go, you not only give up control of your own life,

but you also stop letting others control it.

And: you give it to the One who can use it best.

As Imogen Heap said: Let go, there's beauty in the breakdown.

Life Sings Her Beautiful Lullaby (but I don't yet want to sleep)

Pending departure,

Your fragrance has become significantly more potent

(incredibly luring)

I smelled it on the wind that rushed past my body

It lingered on my clothes and in my hair when I returned home.

The aroma of beauty and vulnerability

of friendships and love

The memories of our pasts

and desires for my future...

These came together in a rush

A symphony of immense proportions

Cymbals crashing, violins singing, flutes trilling and timpani rumbling

The utter crescendo of life!

Which then quieted into the most beautiful silence.

Yesterday the world looked more beautiful

More glorious than normal

One might contend it was the best weather of the year,

Or the basic presence of excitement,

But in my closing argument,

I would label it nothing less than love.

My beautiful friends,

It has always been clear

That there will be an Orlando-shaped hole in my heart come this winter.

But it has never been more obvious,

The magnificence that you have taught me

Through relationship, love, and accountability.

Is there a word for this feeling in my heart?

This overwhelming, overcoming appreciation for you and your part in my life?

To classify it as affection, happiness, adoration, longing, or sadness is a feeble attempt at absolute best;

These words combine into a shadowy, colorless, and shapeless drawing 

Instead of the bright beautiful colors containing the actual welling up in my soul.

I love you, dear friends.

Obsessed and Addicted

When I first heard of the Twilight series, I balked at it. I laughed at the movie trailers and anyone silly enough to go and see it.

Women I respected began to read these books, and I must have slightly let my guard down.

Then, two of my best friends willingly went to check out the movie. And loved it, not to mention the main vampire character: Edward Cullen. 

My wariness dropped even more. These were smart women, so I knew it couldn't be that bad (even though we definitely don't have the same disdain for chick flicks.) I agreed to see the movie based on the fact that they gave me a free ticket to do so. It was the only way I could be convinced to do it. And I did it.

And thus began the inevitable sucking into the Twilight Zone.

We watched the movie Friday night. I read the first of the four 500+ books in 5 hours Saturday. Sunday brought book 2, plus a second showing of the movie. Monday, feeling less than eager to work, I did the urgent work and saved the rest for later, reading the 3rd book instead. And finally, the 4th book was finished on Tuesday.

I woke up Wednesday morning, in a very blue mood. To say I had an obsession, an addiction, seemed like an understatement. The world seemed a little less colorful that day. I had been pulled into this fantasy world of vampires, werewolves, and perfect love. We had planned to go see the movie a 3rd time Wednesday night (who can resist Rob Pattinson's dreamy pale face?) but about halfway through the day, I hit the brick wall of reality.

Every girl I've known to read this series has become completely involved in these books (read: they have become her life for as long as it's taken to get through them.) While some may be able to obtain a safer distance than others (specifically, me), almost all of us read roughly 2200 - 2400 pages in a mere 4-7 days. Work, laundry, friends, God - all went forgotten. The only important thing was Edward (or Jacob for some). We became ensnared by this fantasy world. We were told lies and believed them. (SMART WOMEN!)

It's not just that Edward taps into the longing desire for perfect love that can only be filled by God - it's also that even this relationship with this Edward that seems so... perfect... is incredibly unhealthy. Jealousy, sneaking around, spending all their time together, forced sexuality (Jake, not Ed), etc is being pushed onto women. girls.

It really IS porn for women. It sells the lie that this is what love really is, when it's in no way representative of LOVE. The gaudy replica of the truth. It always sells SO well, and we never figure out why.

All of the people I know who are reading it are over 20 (adults) and its taken us a while to even realize how crazy we've become. But what does this say to the 12-17 year old girls, at which the book is specifically aimed? How can they be taught the reality of the world + healthy relationships by these books? Impossible. It's blinding.

Melissa also made an interesting point about the setting: the fact that we are asked to suspend our beliefs about reality in regard to the vampires and werewolves also makes it much easier to suspend our disbelief in the relationships as well. "It's okay that Edward is extremely drawn to Bella's blood and wants to kill her: how romantic!" Just insane. You are asked to believe that Edward's main draw to Bella is based on just a few things: her blood (#1), the fact that her mind is blocked to him (curiosity doesn't keep a relationship rolling very long), her klutziness, and her beauty.

For a 110+ year old vampire, I'd expect a bit higher standard. 

I realize that I might sound overboard or crazy. Maybe this series of books plays into my insecurities more than others. Maybe others can maintain their distance. But even so, there is something very distressing about the obsession with this series.

Facebook-less

I have decided upon a new experiment for as long as possible: Life without Facebook.

A cursory glance would indicate that this might be an easy task. It eliminates the distraction of walls, notes, friends, etc. The removal of FB provides more time for me to accomplish tasks I should be focusing upon, in place of FB. Relationships will be more intentional, as it's not quite as simple as logging on to my page any time of day or night and leaving me a message asking to hang out - you have to pursue at least a text message or phone call or (gasp!) an in person invite.

However, my social life might just suffer. Very few people remember to invite non-FB friends to events anymore. It's more of a hope-you-are-lucky-enough-to-hear-it-through-the-grapevine kind of thing. I'm okay with the fact that I might miss out on a few social events, though, because I am frequently overwhelmed by my social calendar anyway. And if it's an event I should really be at, I'm fairly certain someone will tell me in a manner other than facebook.

There are other reasons that I have opted to experiment with this, but they won't be disclosed here. I should admit that I'm not sure how long my will power is going to last, so I might be on as early as tonight. I should also give credit to my roommate Leslie Hege, who has been without Myspace and/or Facebook frequently without problems. She's my inspiration, at least in part.

I just got back to Orlando from Georgia this weekend. It was such an incredibly lovely 4 days at home. I always enjoy seeing my family and hanging out with my Georgian friends; however, this time was the most refreshing time spent out of Orlando in quite a while. Friendships here have lately been challenging and heartbreaking and work - to be expected, of course. I've struggled with being a good friend and finding good friends and loving well and being loved well. I went home to my family (who loves me fairly unconditionally) and my 2 best friends from college (who also are great at loving me despite my flaws) and several other people whom I love dearly. Being at home this week felt like sitting on the couch on a Sunday afternoon, drowsily watching an Audrey Hepburn movie after a fantastic night on the town the night before. It was comfortable and easy and required very little on my part (and I hope those who I spent time with!) 

As I spent time with these amazing friends/family of mine, I realized what was missing from some of my friendships here that have been frustrating lately. I am insecure, or else my friend is insecure, in the friendship. It's not completely understood that no matter what, we will be friends; no matter how your flaws come up or how we argue or disagree - we will be friends. There's not enough love, whether on my part or my friends (because there might be a little of both!).

I take responsibility for at least part of most of these unstable friendships and it's my goal to work as I can with God to change these insecurities on both ends. I think it involves me being more present in those friendships that need more stability and love. I think it involves the friend being willing to love me despite how flipping ugly I can be in certain situations, and vice versa.

So work with me if you will to make our friendships better and more unconditional (as much as we are able.) 

Love you guys. I want to feel as loved and refreshed in Orlando as I do in Atlanta, and I will strive to accomplish that goal! As for you people who already love me as I mentioned, thanks. Just THANKS.